Chapter 350
Chapter 350
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Saint and Completer (6)
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[Saintniiiim!!!!!!]
“Ow, my ears!”
[What in the world! Why have you been so out of touch! I’ve told you time and again how vital you are to the followers of the Light! Your life no longer belongs solely to you alone!]
“Haha... Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration—”
[Just imagine the rumors spreading that the Saint has met a tragic end. Do you really think it would end with just your death? Every tool of the Light scattered across the world would wail until their throats burst, and some would collapse and die from it! Think of Sir Gregorius, who rushed to that desert to serve you! Wouldn’t the guilt of failing to protect the Light’s long-lost agent choke him? Can you swear that the Gregorius after your passing would live the same life as the one now!!!]
“No—”
[Why can’t you value yourself more, you foolllll!!!!!!]
“Owowow! Archbishop! Please! Have some dignity!”
[There’s only you and me here anyway, and with the Church’s roots and vanguard in peril, who cares about a little dignity!!]
The Archbishop’s thunderous roar reverberated in my ears, his shoulders heaving with ragged breaths.
Norman, the Archbishop who must have been swamped with war and relief efforts without a moment’s rest, had received my makeshift divine communication and immediately cast a temple-scale spell right in front of the sacred statue. Thanks to that, I could now see him jumping around in a frenzy with my eyes as well as my ears.
‘S-Scary...!’
The usually kindly, wrinkle-covered face of Archbishop Norman was flushed red as a jujube, his white eyebrows shooting up in an inverted V as he raged. It instilled a terror in anyone facing him, making them think, ‘That old man might drop dead from high blood pressure any second.’
“A-Archbishop, please calm down first—”
[Not ‘Archbishop’—just Archbishop! Or call me Norman! The Church’s hierarchy isn’t something you can casually alter for your convenience!]
“No, even so, how could a young whippersnapper like me address someone like you so—”
[I’ve told you repeatedly: don’t think lightly of things that are weighty to us just because they’re light to you! Take this incident! You slew the God of the Great Desert and even subjugated the offspring of that evil god who gained divine power! It’s undoubtedly a historic, monumental feat beyond words, but now your name officially bears the title ‘Godslayer’! Do you know what that means?]
“Uh... well... you got stronger?”
[It means you’ve become the catalyst to blur the line between immortal gods and mortal humans! If you die now, every relic made from your remains will carry the symbol of the Godslayer! How many pieces of your flesh have you scattered across the world? Chunks of meat, skin, limbs, fingers! You’ve doled them out thoughtlessly like a lizard regrowing tails—over a hundred portions at least. From now on, we servants of the gods will have to risk our lives retrieving your body parts! Conversely, those who seek to harm the gods will desperately hunt for those traces. You’ve become an entity of immense significance to this world! Every action, every word must be deliberate, which is why the Church sought to guide and support you—and yet! Yet agaaaain!!!]
“A-Archbi—”
[Normaaaaaan!!!!]
“Aigoo, Norman! Hey, Norman! Normaaaaan! There, happy?”
[Huff, huff! Hooo... Lathura. I’ll atone for my rude words to the successor of the Great Light’s will when you arrive at the Church. In the future, please... mind your words and deeds....]
Only after I dropped the title did the Archbishop finally calm down. He caught his breath, then knelt in the flickering light, clasping his hands.
[...First, let us mourn the brothers taken early into the Light’s embrace, then speak properly.]
“...Lathura.”
[Lathura, Ro-Haram. We advanced upon your sacrifice, leaving bloody footprints and your name etched in the traces.]
“...”
Clap!
[Good. We’ve grieved the departed enough. Now, let’s discuss those we must slay with our own hands.]
“Yes. First, give me an overview of the battlefield, the situation, and the enemy’s scale. Oh, if it’s info that can’t leave headquarters—”
[What you desire is the Light’s guidance. From the grandest to the smallest, I’ll tell you everything. At present, the front lines are....]
“Hmm... Hoo... Oh....”
As the leader of one of the alliance’s key forces, the Archbishop had most battlefield intel at his fingertips.
“...It doesn’t look all that great?”
[No evil god operating like this has ever been recorded in the Church’s entire history.]
“Prosperity, huh....”
Palkatus. Since the death of the named strategist for the Mutts, the war’s tide had shifted dramatically, like being swept into a storm.
From a cautious, human army striking at weaknesses to one wielding waves of savagery and violence—closer to its true nature.
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The next morning.
Vrooooooom—
“The airship is ascending! Ascending! Get off the deck! Once more: if caught in the mana waves, the Aedran family takes no responsibility—Hey! Block him!”
“Just once! Just once chance to speak with the Saint! You rascal! Don’t you see this symbol? I’m the head of the Lupaletchia Canal Transport Union! How dare some lowly merchant—Oof!”
“Even if the head honcho grandpa shows up, no dice! You there! Knight, stop!”
“This is an invitation from my lord! The Saint won’t ignore his name!”
“Invitations over there! Gifts this way! We’ll deliver them to the Saint, so get lost! Damn it, lift off! If we miss schedule, the family head’ll kill us all!”
“Let go, you fiend! My lifetime opportunity, the chance that won’t come again, flying away to the heavens!!!”
The airship landing zone and crowds were even rowdier than yesterday.
They were high nobles or regional overlords, yet no one blamed their unseemly behavior. After all, the Saint—center of it all—had arrived in Aedran territory, but from touchdown to now, he hadn’t shown his face outside even once.
Nobles and merchants who’d bet everything on the ‘fall of Goldguider Merchant Company’ rumors were on the brink of ruin. The Saint, famed as the God of Wealth for granting Aedran airship tech, marrying off their daughter as empress, and reviving the crumbling Church of Light, was their last hope. Yet unlike his usually shrewd political moves, he’d holed up silently in Aedran till dawn—enough to shatter their nerves.
“Damn it. If Lucilla were here, how great would that be? She’d check deals for me, attend parties, sift out the useful ones, and handle everything smoothly.”
“Hahaha. Professor, are you saying you’d use the Empire’s Empress like a squire?”
“Just a figure of speech. Ugh, what a waste. Those swarming down there are all fat stacks of coin, and I have to leave ‘em.”
“But you did speak properly with Aedran’s family head, right?”
“That’s why we’re leaving. That old man’ll handle it clean and crisp. Sure, since it’s one step removed from me—the guy with direct field command—it’ll cost more time and money, but no choice. Time’s short.”
With the airship’s characteristic hum and tingle, Aedran territory rapidly receded outside the window.
“Time, huh... The Archbishop’s news must’ve been pretty grim. You seem urgent.”
“Huh? How’d you know I talked to the Archbishop? I heard you and the others got dragged to dinner and bolted.”
“Come on. Everyone in Aedran saw the sacred glow flashing over the lord’s castle. So, what’d he say? And what’s with the scribbling?”
“...Easier to just read it. War brings back old memories, so I’m jotting notes to organize. Once we land, it’s nonstop brain-fry, so thinking ahead while there’s time.”
“No wonder you crammed that big frame at the desk. Hand it over.”
Ottman snatched the paper the Professor tossed without looking. Aside from the illegible scrawl—cramped space and for personal use—his notes were quite systematic.
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Situation Report: Status of Major Fronts, Including Lordric West.
Recipient: You-know-who.
Sender: Church of Light Headquarters. Archbishop Norman.
1. Confirmed – Our Forces:
1-a) Supply Lines
Supply routes are being created and destroyed so frequently records are meaningless. They’ve formalized ambushes via earthworms; despite ample supplies from nations, less than a third reach the front.
1-b) Supply mounts like horses and oxen are mostly dead; urgent need to requisition replacements. With warhorses scarce, knights are running on foot, and even supply carts lack horses—knights stripping armor to pull wagons themselves.
1-c) Potable water severely contaminated by systematic terror. Mutts’ blood spreads infection even in traces, requiring priests’ purification. Frontline priests are overworked casting cleanse spells nonstop, teetering on exhaustion death. Cleric shortages mean thirsting soldiers drink tainted water and get infected, requiring evacuation—reported in multiple spots.
2) Divine Matters
2-a) Biggest issue: manpower shortage. Per Archbishop Norman, temple bells for rites and purification haven’t stopped for six months; most long-serving bells shattered, so they hung underground ‘torture’ bells for holy rites. Shattered ones melted for holy weapons.
2-b) Inter-Church friction. Common foe—the evil god—prevents outright clashes, but operational friction persists. Bounty prioritizes regenerating blighted lands for prolonged war; Mercy focuses on civilian aid; Valor pushes forward bases in occupied zones for stable fronts and conscription. Light, holding max votes as Saint’s proxy, abstained; now coordinating at Wisdom’s temple per battle shifts. They always pick ‘right,’ fueling real-time grudges among Churches. Prolonged friction will disrupt cooperation.
3) Politics, Military
3-a) Severe field officer shortage. Commander-level okay-ish, but most squad and platoon leaders dead, crippling force fluidity. Promoting surviving veterans fills gaps, but command savvy isn’t quick-made; overall combat efficacy down inevitably.
3-b) Lordric’s sovereignty lost in warzone. Over a year’s war: no fall harvest—99% econ/food reliant on foreign aid. Functions ceased as nation; central war nation loses political voice, sidelining Lordric-born guardsmen, Castle Knight Pahellos. Nations now fiercely jockey for supreme commander post. Recent momentum grabs intensify conflicts.
3-c) Ununified forces. Teldrat, Free Trade Trio, Lordric mixed. Year of brutal joint fighting unified their commands somewhat; soon massive Empire reinforcements arrive. Too vast to haphazardly absorb into systems. Empire’s troops: New Emperor stripping noble private armies for central power grab. Low loyalty, skill, morale; mixed gear; some forcibly conscripted serf-soldiers. Half’ll be spear-meat on deployment.
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Rustle. Rustle.
Amid airship vibes and charcoal scratches, page flips ended with a heavy sigh.
“...What a mess.”
“War’s war. Not the worst, though.”
Yeah. Our side at that level wasn’t worst-case.
Churches united fast, curbing zealot rampages; Palkatus’s death neutered his planted spies; overall, minimized the biggest internal threat in the Mutts war.
And more? Lower officers gutted, but Edeorna’s injury let high commanders/heroes—who should’ve been assassinated—survive enough to worry command chaos. Normally, by now, playerless HQs would be assassinated out, forcing solo player control of all fronts. This was leagues better.
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- Jokasss: Found Kingsland north topography.
- Number Three: 3World Hero Unit skills, stats list! Guesses, but pretty accurate!
- Take a Look: What was skilled spearman-to-Mutt exchange ratio? Hey, subcontract to other relay rooms?
- Professor: With that, general elite, Class 4~2 combat Mutts battle logs too. No one knows Dwarf Village spot?
- Take a Look: Nope. Dead probably.
- Professor: Shit. Few smiths left too.
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Chat rooms 1-7 mobilizing all collective brainpower. Factoring everything, our side was ‘manageable...? Level. Compared to instant ‘we’re fucked!’ vs. Empire, desert, etc., super comfy. No tumorous baggage on our side—night-and-day better.
Scratch. Scratch scratch.
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2. Confirmed – Enemy Forces
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Problem’s here.
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Reference on Evil God ‘Mutation Blood Queen’’s Authority.
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Tap. Tap. Tap....
Charcoal halted dead at this section.
“...Even taped to a bumper, it’s a god for show.”
Core of Archbishop Norman chat. Enemy intel dramatically diverged from player common knowledge.
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1) Enemy Offensive – Numbers
1-a) Tactics. From precise, sneaky human-style to savage, feral endless horde waves—regression to old ways. Likely Palkatus death impact. Positive change? Hold judgment. Too damn many. Line officers count Mutts by area now.
1-b) Sheer numbers cause secondary damage. Rotting corpses’ stench/disease, blood cleanup secondary; piled bodies physically degrade walls.
1-c) ......
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Straightforward, even positive-ish.
And.
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.
.
.
.
2. Enemy Offensive – Evolution
2-a) Queen’s maids, ‘Chamber Maids’’ blooming change.
2-b) Queen’s dog, Edeorna joins fray. All close observers dead; no details.
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Unignorable, unrecorded in other players’ worlds. Surely Irregular from error-boosted difficulty.
Evil god standards per firsthand Echo Maria: if her power morphed to purely domestic/production authority, what effects?
Recall empire-wide curse, massive plague—her terrifying might.
Maria razed capital, matched all Empire power day one as god.
Mutts Queen got a year from her spawn’s earnings.
What’d the ‘Prosperity’ godhood Queen prep in that year? Didn’t wanna imagine, but.
“Urgh, smell. Burning stench, burning.”
“...Corpse runoff formed rivers. Mutts blood-infected, yet piled unburnt?”
“Not unburnt—they’re queuing for pyres.”
“My God....”
No need to imagine; battlefield horrors seeped in via eyes, ears, nose, skin.
“P-Professor. Th-that there... Kingsland, Lordric’s capital, right?”
“...Doesn’t feel like it’s been that long since I was back.”
Kingsland, Knight Kingdom’s capital.
Ancient history, bred countless famed knights—land of sword and honor.
Long ago, Hero Conference visit: no flash, but dignified, sturdy, proud city.
That city. Guarded by Castle Knights—each a wall incarnate. How’d it end like this.
“...Tch. Lordric King couldn’t bear humiliation, charged vanguard and perished, they say.”
Trampled forests/villages left vast plain in black and red—two hues only.
At plain’s edge, hazy Kingsland emerged, shattered like Lordric’s fate.
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